Chapter 8
“We make plans. God laughs. And puts a belly-dancing nightmare in your path.”
-Cam
My head is pounding from the cheap red wine I drank on the plane. The smell of jet fuel wafting up doesn’t help my instant hangover as I step onto the jet bridge. I slip on dark sunglasses and readjust the grip on my rolling carry-on suitcase.
I’m not going to be here long.
Long enough to pay my respects and get the hell out.
But first, I need to get around these slow motherfuckers in Tampa International Airport. I spy an opening in the crowd, slip through, and dart down to the ground level, where I’ll catch a ride to Flamingo Cove.
I’m halfway down the escalator when I hear a familiar voice.
“Mija!Mija! It’s Mama! Down here! Surprise!”
I groan and look skyward for help. God is certainly laughing at me today.
“Mija!” Mama yells as the escalator spits me out on the carpeted floor.
Carmen Saber is a 71-year-old mother of five with eight grandkids. But she looks nearly twenty years younger. Her light brown skin shows no signs of aging. Her brown hair swinging freely about her face. And with the pink glittery tank top she’s wearing, it’s like Mama is offering tickets to the gun show. Her biceps are killer.
She’s been working out.
Mama grabs me in a tight hug, and I try to scoot us off to the side so we don’t jam up the rest of the passengers behind me. But, as I scoot, Mama squeezes me tighter.
“Mama, please. We have to move to the side.”
“One more minute,” Mama cries into my hair. “I haven’t seen you in so long!”
We’re the same height, but Mama is surprisingly strong and has planted herself on the ground floor of the airport, refusing to budge until she’s hugged the stuffing out of me.
“C’mon, Mama,” my oldest sister Carolina taps Mama on the shoulder. “You can squeeze the shit out of Cam later.”
This gets Mama’s attention. “Mija! Language!”
Carolina rolls her eyes, then pulls us off to an unoccupied area behind the escalator. That’s when I notice Mama is wearing a long glittery skirt with… bells?
“Mama, what’s on your skirt?” I point.
She shakes her ass. “It’s a belly dancing skirt.”
I open my mouth to say something. Carolina holds up her hand. “Don’t ask. You don’t want to know. It’ll scar you for life!”
I smirk. I’ll have to ask my big sister about this later.
“How did you know I was going to be here?” I raise my eyebrow at Carolina.
She snorts. “Luke ‘Mr. Can’t Mind His Own Business’ Saber. Mama told him about the funeral.”
I fold my arms over my chest and look at our Mama. “And how did you know about the funeral in the first place?”
Mama smiles. “I got a call from an old friend of yours when they couldn’t get hold of you. Then, you wouldn’t answer your phone, so I sent Catalina to give you the news.”
I squint at Mama. Something wasn’t sitting with her explanation. “And who is this friend who called you?”
Mama reaches for my suitcase. “We don’t have time for this,Mija. Celia is double-parked at the curb!”
